A Twisted Lakeport Tale

Oh, Debbie, you cunt, he'd roar through the screen door.

You're a black cloud raining on my life once more. He'd snatch that pot of boiling coffee,

hurl it wild without a care. Hot brew burning across her skin, poison filling the

air. Debbie, you cunt, howling into the pines.

In this twisted Lakeport tale of broken lives. She'd stand there quiet by the wood

stove wiping scalds from her arms. While Ken gunned that Toyota down the back roads,

chasing phantom charms. He'd call her his fog, his gloom,

the storm rolling off the lake. The shadow that swallowed his sunshine, the end of Miss